


Intimate Apparel

by Lauralot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Embarrassment, Forced Crossdressing, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Pre-Canon, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4327641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What the hell, Alex?  You see a dress in a closet and you assume it’s meant for you?”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t be the first time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimate Apparel

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [June 2015 prompt fills](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222785) by [linguamortua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/pseuds/linguamortua). 



> This story is set in the 1970s.
> 
> An explanation for this: The brilliant [linguamorta](http://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/pseuds/linguamortua) wrote [a short Fury/Pierce fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4222785/chapters/9548640) based on the prompt "Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress," about Nick buying a dress for Alexander. It was wonderful and everyone should go read it, but because my brain must make things ridiculous, I wondered how things would have gone if the dress wasn't intended for Alexander.
> 
> This is the result of that thought.

Alex’s words were rushed, breathless. “Guess what I’m wearing.”

It was uncharacteristic enough that Nick moved the receiver away from his ear, blinking. Oh, Alex had no aversion to using these secure lines to get himself off, Nick was well-accustomed to that, but he’d never been so graceless in initiating. Usually Alex seemed to delight in dancing around his lust until Nick would be begging for it if he’d give Alex that satisfaction.

Instead, Nick would wait until he could bear it no longer and would order Alex to touch himself. Only then would Alex drop the pretense of subtlety.

“Some obscenely expensive suit with the pants tailored too tight to hide your cock,” Nick guessed wearily. It’d been a hell of a day. Jacking off almost seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Almost.

“My tailor understands discretion, Nicky,” Alex responded, his breathing a little more settled. “Unlike some. I found your present.”

Nick was definitely too tired for these guessing games. “If you mean you swiped all my scotch again, you’re gonna be the one replacing it this time.”

“No.” Alex laughed, the sound staticky but beautiful. “No, I found your present. Guess what I’m wearing.”

“Alex,” Nick said. “When this op isn’t wasting my time and pissing me off, it’s wasting my time and putting me to sleep. It’s so hot in Venezuela that my balls are—”

“Such language, Nicholas.” Nick could hear his smirk through the phone.

“I’m too damn tired to play twenty questions,” Nick said, rubbing a hand at his brow. “And I haven’t got a clue what you’re on about. What present?”

“But you’re not too tired to play coy.” Alex’s voice was almost singsong. “The closet? Do the words blue and soft and lovely ring any bells?”

His words were taking on that husky, winded tone again. Nick was surprised he hadn’t yet heard the sound of Alex’s zipper. He racked his mind, trying to think of any suit, tie, or dress shirt that could fit that description. Nothing. Nothing Alex wouldn’t have already seen ages ago, anyway.

Unless he meant—No. No, he couldn’t.

“Grey box?” Alex said when the silence stretched on, voice still playful but with a hint of worry. “Down at the bottom?”

Fuck. He _did._

Nick took a moment to just stare at the damn phone. “Are you telling me that you found a rayon party dress in my closet, and your first thought was to put it on?”

“It’s polyester, dear,” Alex corrected. “And no, my first thought was to buy stockings and panties to match. No heels, I’m afraid—the selections in my size were repulsive.”

So much for being tired. The rush of incredulity was flushing out his fatigue. “You’re in your office in a damn skirt and hose?”

“Thrilling, isn’t it? Or would you rather have me at your place, bent over the kitchen table, waiting for you to come home and fuck your lovely girl?”

Nick was going to get drunk when he hung up the phone. Dangerously drunk. “Alex, you idiot, that dress is for my mother.”

A pause. “What?” Alex’s laugh was much shorter this time, almost strangled.

“My mother. For her birthday.” There was a headache blooming behind Nick’s eyes. “She invited you to dinner. Have you lost your mind?”

_Bring that skinny white boy you like so much,_ his mother had said. He could only imagine how she would react to finding out that boy had put on her dress and planned to jack off in it.

A longer pause this time. Nick could hear the squeak of Alex’s desk chair as he shifted. “This wouldn’t fit your mother,” he said finally. “Come on, Nick, as if you’d buy a dress that would accommodate my shoulders and then tell me it isn’t meant for—”

“I was having it taken in. Why do you think it wasn’t wrapped?” Nick buried his face in his hand. “What the hell, Alex? You see a dress in a closet and you assume it’s meant for you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Alex said, almost petulant.

Nick choked on air. “The fuck do you and the missus get up to when I’m not around?”

“Don’t be lewd,” Alex snapped. He was definitely sulking. “I was six. My older sister had friends over and they caught me spying on their slumber party from her closet. So they forced me into a dress and marched me up and down the block as a punishment.” The chair shifted again. “They called me Alexandra for weeks.”

“I’d have gone with Allie,” Nick said dryly.

“Shut up.” Alex sighed. “This isn’t even your mother’s color.”

“You spend a lotta time thinking about dress colors, Allie?”

“Only when they’re obviously wrong.” Alex didn’t sound breathless anymore, the excitement gone from his tone. His voice was perfectly flat and measured, and Nick knew him well enough to know that he was wounded.

But then Alex had to go and say “I even shaved my legs,” and Nick couldn’t keep from laughing. Howling, really. He blamed the exhaustion.

“You _didn’t_.”

“I’m hanging up the phone, Nick,” Alex warned.

Nick struggled to force down his laughter, bit his tongue to keep from asking how quickly the razor had dulled. For all his calm reserve at a debate or government session, Alex was a peacock when it came to his personal pride. And Nick had just ruffled his feathers. “Wait. I’m flattered. Really, I am.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I mean it.” And somewhere beneath the amusement and confusion, he did. Alex had been willing to throw himself wholeheartedly into something most men would never have even considered. Granted, most men wouldn’t have considered it because finding a dress wouldn’t prompt them to think it was for them, and this whole thing seemed more about satisfying Alex’s cravings than trying to cater to Nick’s kinks, but still. “You went to all that trouble for me.”

There’s another moment of silence, save for the static and the creaking of Alex’s chair. “Clearly, I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“I’ll bet you look beautiful.” Men in dresses wasn’t Nick’s thing, but imagining the drape of the fabric down Alex’s legs, the long fingers toying with the skirt hem, well, it wasn't a bad picture. Funny, but not bad. “Tell me about the stockings. You wearing a garter belt?”

“Do you want to spend a week on the couch?” Alex asked, but he was softening. Nick could hear it.

“Before or after I bend you over the table?”

Alex laughed again. “Maybe I’ve shelved that offer.”

“Maybe.” Nick leaned back in his own chair with a resigned sigh as though they weren’t both desperate to see each other. He’d already spent a month overseas. “I’d bring you lipstick.”

“Red?” There was the faintest hitch in Alexander’s breathing.

“Peach. Your face’d be red enough, the things we’d be doing.” Another catch in Alex’s breath, and Nick smirked. “You touching yourself, beautiful?”

“Mmm.” That was the only reply he got, apart from a long sigh. Nick could picture Alex slumped back in his chair, filmy blue fabric over his body, lips falling open.

And then he was touching himself too, lazily, more invested in the fevered sounds Alex was making for now. “Maybe I won’t wait ‘til I get home. I’ll see you at the debriefing and drag you into your office after, bend you over the desk.” He stroked himself, held in a sigh of his own. “Might not even lock the door, since you’re being such a tease.”

“You— _ah_ —you presume that I’d leave the dress here?”

“Seems to me you like the thrill, _Alexandra_.” Nick didn’t miss the muffled moan over the end of the line, grinning, speeding up his hand. “You could always take it home, try and keep it hidden from your wife.”

“Hidden? Please.” His voice was losing its polished tone, growing ragged, frantic. “She’d take sn— _aah_ —snapshots for you. She—sends her regards, by the— _ahh_ —”

“Tell her I send mine back,” Nick said, his hand now a blur over himself. “Now come for me, lovely girl.”

He heard a muffled cry from the other end of the line, a quiet curse. He imagined the shake of Alex’s hips, the arch of his back in that pretty blue dress that matched his eyes. Nick followed shortly after.

For a moment, the line was just static and labored breathing. Then Alex said, apologetically, “I got your mother’s dress dirty.”

Nick couldn’t help it. He laughed long and hard until his lungs were burning.

“I’ll have it cleaned.”

“You’ll have it _replaced_ ,” Nick corrected. “Like hell am I giving my mother a dress you jacked off on. I’d never be able to look her in the eye again. Keep it.”

“Fine,” Alex huffed, though Nick knew he was smiling. “The color was all wrong for her anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Allie.”

**Author's Note:**

> [This](https://flic.kr/p/WLRaht) is the dress in question.


End file.
